Natima rolled her eyes. “And is it possible that they tend to be a private people precisely to avoid having their intimate relationships exploited by entrepreneurial Ferengi?”
“All sentients are motivated by the need to eat and the need to reproduce. It’s variety in both that keeps life interesting.”
“So you see yourself as the host at a buffet table of exotic delights of all shapes and sizes?”
“Precisely.”
“Quark, as much as the universe changes, you always somehow manage to stay the same.” Natima shook her head.
Quark stopped smiling and found himself staring deeply into her eyes. “Another thing that hasn’t changed is how much you mean to me, Natima.” Quark reached over, placing his hand over hers. “Every bit of news out of Cardassia, every report, I looked for your face—your name—hoping you were safe.”
“I have to confess even with everything that’s happened to my people in recent years, my thoughts have often traveled back here, because I was worried about you, too. I had a feeling you’d make it.”
“Takes more than a few wars to kill me off.”
“I believe that.”
Quark sighed. “I’m happy you’re here, Natima.”
She smiled, and placed her hand over his. “Me, too.”
Other than when she’d first admitted them to Shar’s quarters, Ro had never seen his bondmates all together. A pair might go shopping on the Promenade; from time to time she’d pass by one in the Habitat Ring, or while crossing over the various bridges to different levels of the station, but never in a group. She suspected they avoided it deliberately. Wherever they went people would talk simply because, to a person, they were striking.
The one sitting next to zh’Thane had an angular handsomeness he emphasized by wearing his hair pulled back tightly from his face. His choice of clothes—a shirt in a vivid hue of teal coupled with an ornately embroidered vest—reflected fashion sensibility Quark would appreciate. In the middle sat the bondmate Ro had met one day in the Replimat—a talkative, friendly individual, especially compared to Shar, who said little unless he was spoken to. Having explained that she was a teacher, she’d inquired about sitting in and observing the station’s classrooms and Ro had forgotten she’d promised to get back to her. Ro made a mental note to add that to her task list for the morning. If she had to guess, she’d pick the Andorian who sat, just a bit a part from the other two, as the “problem” zh’Thane had come to see her about.
Unlike the congenial stockiness of the chatty one who sat beside her, she had a lean, willowy look, emphasized by her choice to wear her long white hair straight and smooth. She must have sensed Ro’s scrutiny because suddenly Ro found herself facing a pair of piercing gray eyes.
“Lieutenant?” she said, her voice silvery toned.
“Umm. Yeah.” Ro grabbed an empty chair from a close-by table, placed it in front of the Andorians’ booth, threw a leg over and straddled it. “Yes. I apologize for interrupting your night out, but I’ve got good news regarding your trip.”
Her eyes narrowing on Ro, the willowy one said, “Trip? What trip?”
“Thriss,” zh’Thane warned.
Puzzled glances passed between the other two bondmates and Ro wondered if zh’Thane had told them about her request for an exemption. Maybe this was a mistake and I should have handled this one-on-one with the councillor.
Zh’Thane must have noticed their apprehension because she quickly said, “Remember we talked yesterday about the timetable for your return to Andor? I’m anxious to hear what you’ve learned, Lieutenant.”
Warily, Thriss watched Ro, her expression flinty.
Ignoring Thriss, Ro took her cue from the senior member of the group and proceeded. “Colonel Kira paged me a short time ago with her approval for your emergency departure exemption. Everything checks out—your ship, Councillor, will be free to leave the station on an ‘as needed’ basis.”
Confusion erupted.
“Dizhei, you discussed this with Zhadi?”one of the Andorians said, anxious. “I thought we’d decided to keep it to ourselves—”
“I thought after what happened this morning—”
“—believed you and Anichent were in agreement—”
Shathrissía kept silent, her eyes solemn. Ro saw her hands curl around the edge of the table, her breathing deepen.
“We can’t risk—”
“—room for last-minute—”
“Wait!” Ro said, bringing her palm down on the table, a little harder than she intended. At the sound, four pairs of eyes fixed on her.
“No one said you had specific plans. Your situation isn’t much different, except now you have the option of leaving on short notice without having to go through all the procedures required by a yellow-alert status.” She turned to zh’Thane. “I have the codes at my office. I’ll have them sent to your quarters, Councillor. Provide them to ops and you’ll be allowed to depart without question.”
“So you all conspired to return to Andor without talking to me about it,” Thriss said softly. “When was this decided? You and Anichent have a little pillow talk, Dizhei? Or was it your idea, Zhadi?Trying to control us, as usual.” Thriss jerked around to face zh’Thane, tipping over a mug filled with Orion ale; liquid drenched the table.
Flustered, Dizhei jumped up. Thriss sat fixed, unbending, ignoring the disturbance she’d caused.
“We hadn’t decided anything without discussing it with you, Shathrissía,” Anichent said. He draped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her reassuringly. “We had to make sure the proposal was feasible. All is well, zh’yi.”
“I am not some addle-minded child you can lie to,” she snarled. Prying his arm from around her shoulder, Thriss scooted away from her bondmate. He caressed her cheek; she slapped his hand away. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
Uh-oh. Looks like we might have a situation here,Ro thought. She needed to turn down the heat before it became a meltdown. “How about we take this to the holosuite? You can talk privately, work through—”
“What’s this ‘we’? And why are you still here?” Thriss turned on Ro, eyes blazing. “Oh I see. You’re one of zhadi’slackeys doing her dirty work.”
“Watch your impertinence in public,” zh’Thane warned.
Ro shot zh’Thane a look, discouraging her from speaking further, and addressed Thriss and her bondmates. “As station security chief, I answer to Colonel Kira, not Councillor zh’Thane and certainly not you. When I suggested you take this to the holosuite, that was a polite way of asking you to resolve your disagreement elsewhere,” Ro said evenly. “If you intend to use your holosuite time, I suggest you do it now. Otherwise, there’s the door.” Pushing her chair back from the group, Ro made it halfway to Quark and Natima’s table when the sound of shattering glass caught her attention. She spun around in time to see Thriss brandishing half a broken drinking glass, the razor sharp edges within centimeters of Anichent’s face. Ro started back toward the Andorians at a brisk clip. Dammit!
“You push and you push, but I’m not giving in this time,” Thriss threatened, loud enough to be heard at the surrounding tables. “I’m not leaving the station without Shar!”
Ro watched, horrified, as Anichent grabbed at Thriss’ arm, trying to wrest the makeshift weapon away from her with his free hand. She threw an elbow into his stomach; he grunted, released his grip on her wrist and toppled into her. In lifting her weapon-arm out of Anichent’s way, Thriss caught her gown on a chair and her arm fell reflexively, thrusting the jagged glass edge into his shoulder. Shaking uncontrollably, Thriss gasped, stumbled backward.